He's not that Isaac Hayes, and people are starting to notice

Spotlight shifting to U.S. Rep. Jesse Jackson Jr.'s opponent

But U.S. Rep. Jesse Jackson Jr., D-Bud Light, and his "social acquaintance" have changed all that.

"The phone's been ringing lately," said Hayes, 36, Jackson's conservative Republican opponent in the 2nd Congressional District. "The media's finally getting interested in my campaign. The voters are tired of him. And so, yes, my phone is ringing."

Does anyone mention "Shaft" and that other Isaac Hayes?

"Every time," said Hayes, an associate minister at the influential Apostolic Church of God at 63rd Street and Dorchester Avenue. "Every time, they bring up that other Isaac Hayes. He's no relation, but that's all right. It's a good icebreaker."

We sat down for breakfast late last week at the Billy Goat. And if Jackson wants to sit down with me for a tasty Spiros Special breakfast sandwich and talk — without lawyers and spinners — he's welcome.

I asked Hayes: How difficult is it being an African-American conservative in a district where the Jackson family machine is so dominant?

"It's difficult if you're not willing to speak up about what you believe," Hayes said. "If you're weak, you wouldn't want to do it. It's my opinion that black conservatives have to have strong character. The easy smear is when you're called a traitor to your race, or an Uncle Tom. That happens a lot.

"But just look at what's happened to the black community over the decades. Look at the family. Look at the lack of economic opportunity," he said. "These problems are in part because of liberal Democratic policies. But people like me get smeared as race traitors for not being liberal Democrats? That's ironic. But that's not why the media is interested in me."

Reporters are now interested in Hayes because Jackson — a child of privilege who has always been about as deep as a teaspoon — has been weakened.

Jackson's been weakened on two fronts.

The corruption front involves Jackson's businessman pal and reported allegations that Jackson directed the man to promise Rod Blagojevich millions in campaign cash in the expectation that Blago would nominate Jackson to the U.S. Senate.

Jackson has characterized that as "preposterous." But it has helped extinguish Jackson's pipe dreams of running for mayor of Chicago.

Then there's the blond front.

She's a blond model/nightclub hostess from Washington, D.C. And she was reportedly flown twice to Chicago by the businessman and described by Jackson as a "social acquaintance."

That's the kind of front that brings a chill to African-American female voters, and it brings those cold October winds that lead into November.

The smart people say Jackson couldn't lose his re-election bid in a heavily Democratic district to a conservative Republican unknown. They may be right. They're smart people.

But I get the feeling that voters are exhausted by Jackson's drama.

So it might be the time for Hayes, who is married and is the son of a minister.

"People recognize that the only reason he was elected is who his father is," Hayes said, referring to Chicago's own King of Beers, the Rev. Jesse Jackson. "Voters are just fed up. And I keep hearing that we need a fresh face on the South Side."

In the past few days, national Republicans have taken an interest. Republican National Chairman Michael Steele is scheduled to campaign with Hayes in Chicago next month, and local conservatives are also holding a fundraiser.

Yet with the interest comes scrutiny. Hayes hasn't been fully "scrubbed," a term reporters use for checking the backgrounds of candidates.

If skeletons exist, the Jacksons will find them, and reveal them.

"Did I make mistakes when I was young? Sure, who hasn't? But I didn't grow up as somebody special. There were no doors held open for me, the way Congressman Jackson had doors opened for him," Hayes said.

The Jackson kids were treated royally as their father gained power and wealth through identity politics. The Jackson kids were educated and set on the smooth pathways of the connected. A seat in Congress was set aside for one son. After the father called for a black boycott of Anheuser-Busch, the other sons received a Budweiser distributorship.

Hayes didn't grow up with money and clout. He attended public schools. His father was, and still is, a minister at the Indiana Avenue Pentecostal Church.

"It started with the social issues," he said of his conversion to conservatism. "I'm pro-life, and I believe marriage should be between one man and one woman. But as you think in terms of family, and what weakens it, you start thinking in terms of economic and education policy."

"You ask how I became conservative?" Hayes said. "You minister to a 14-year-old boy in jail, and he's telling you that he has to get out so he can take care of his child. We've got to fundamentally change what's going on in the cities. And it starts when African-Americans stop giving away their votes and being taken for granted."